Tuesday, Tuesday
by Sarah's Crack
Summary: On Tuesday nights, Neptune is swingin'.


**Title**: Tuesday, Tuesday (Five Things That Never Happened Last Tuesday Night in Neptune)  
**Author**: Sarah :)  
**Pairing**: Ensemble  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: Through 2x13, Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough, just to be safe, but nothing specific.  
**Word Count**: 1678  
**Summary**: On Tuesday nights, Neptune is swingin'.  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Duh.  
**Thanks**: To **herowlness**, who totally wore me down until I wrote one of these. HAPPY NOW? And to the fabulous **rachelshanz** for betaing at the last minute. Oh, and **keepaofthecheez**, I snuck your fic in here. Aren't I good? ;)  
**Final notes**: This was written for the round one general challenge at **5thingsthat**. And I guess it qualifies for inclusion in my _Babes In Toyland_ toyfic series. Also? CRACK ALERT. I wrote this in half an hour. And I scare myself. For real, yo.

--

**The Seventh Veil, 9:18 PM**

"Do I know you?" The woman walked up to him slowly, her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

"Uh, no. I don't think so," Sacks said, trying to elbow his way through the bar to make sure his partner didn't need any help dealing with the drunk and disorderly man they'd received the call about.

"Well, _Deputy_," she drawled, her voice thick with desire. "Then we must not have met. Trust me, you'd never forget a night with Loretta Cancun."

"Are you..." Sweat beaded on the back of his neck, and his voice cracked slightly. "Are you propositioning an officer of the law?" The surprise on his face melted into determination as he cleared a path for Leo to haul their catch out to the cruiser.

"No, no, it's just that I can do this thing, with my tongue..." She suddenly trailed off as realization dawned on her. "You--you're.."

Sacks motioned to Leo that he'd be right out, and turned back to her.

"Did you figure it out yet?" His tone was low and sinful, and his demeanor completely the opposite of the twitchy deputy that had walked in the bar ten minutes ago. Sacks put a hand on Loretta's waist and pulled her close to him.

"Oh my God." Her voice caught in her throat. "It really _is_ you."

"There's no God here, baby. Just me."

With that, Sacks pulled her into a sweeping kiss, his erection nudging into her stomach.

"Ben Biggler. Holy shit. You were _so_ good in _Ass Pirates Five: Plundering Pirate Booty_."

He smirked and made sure Leo was still outside.

"I get off at ten, babe." Sacks thrust his hips against her in a promise of things to come. "Meet me in the parking lot." He released his hold on her and moved away, slowly falling back into his bumbling cop personae that his day job required him to adapt. "Just one question," he turned to her before he left. "How'd you know it was me? The wig, the teeth, the twitchiness...No one's seen past it all before."

"It's the mustache," she moaned, quivering with the thought of the delight she would experience later that evening. "I never forget a good porn-star mustache."

--

**Casa de Casablancas, 9:44 PM**

"Dude, this is so fucking lame. We should be out banging--"

"Anything with a pulse. Yeah, man, I heard you the first five times." Logan rolled his eyes. "Come on, Dick. Where's your sense of practicality? I mean, why go out there and get herpes when you could have all _this_." He motioned with a flourish to the coffees table, which was covered with an empty pizza box and beer cans at various stages of emptiness. Taking another swig from his drink, Logan flopped backwards on the couch and grabbed for the remote.

"There's just something wrong with a Tuesday night when I'm not getting laid," Dick replied petulantly.

Logan arched an eyebrow up at him. "Well, if you play your cards right, Dickie..."

"Don't even fucking finish that sentence." Dick frowned and looked at the box in front of him. "This was your idea, man, so let's just get it over with." He shook his head wistfully before knocking back a beer in one long swig. "Man, I may be plastered, but I am _not_ drunk enough for this shit."

With a discerning eye, Logan reached down and selected something from the container before him. "Okay, I'm ready."

"What the fuck, Logan?" Dick tackled him to the couch, fighting him for the item. "My house, my rules. And you _know_ I'm always Michelangelo, so don't fucking start with me."

"Now, now. Sharing is caring, Dick." With a gleeful grin, Logan escaped Dick's clutches and tossed another green plastic figure his way.

"No way. Purple is a pussy color," Dick spat out. "And I was Donatello last time, bastard. At least let me have _some_ dignity." His eyes narrowed when he saw what Logan was reaching for. "Don't give me any of that crap! When your girlfriend gets here, you can make _her_ be April. They're a perfect match."

Worldlessy, Logan handed him the one with the blue band on its head. Dick grunted his approval, and the two settled in and began to develop their storyline.

--

**Neptune High Auditorium, 7:59 PM**

"Eight-hundred and ninety-seven."

"That is correct. Five points for Neptune High." The team exchanged high-fives and smiles and looked to the moderator.

"This is the final question of the match, so it's worth twenty points. Right now the score stands at ninety to eighty, with Pan High leading by ten points." Principal Clemmons turned to the crowd. "The winner of this round will move to the statewide competition in May. Please, let me remind you not to make any noise or shout out any answers, or the question will be thrown out." He once again focused his gaze on the contestants and nodded.

"Buzzers ready? Okay. For the regional title," he flipped the card in his hand over, "how many real roots does the polynomial x to the fifth +12x-7 have?"

A buzzer sounded. The audience waited with bated breath. Then tension in the auditorium crescendoed to a fevered pitch.

"Neptune High rings in first. Your answer?"

The two players who hadn't buzzed in looked to their captain and shrugged their shoulders. It was all up to him now. If he knew it, they were in the Mathalon finals--they were the ultimate mathaletes. Their feats would be talked about in the hallways of Neptune for years to come.

Or, they got cool jackets and a trophy. Whatever.

"Neptune High, I need an answer."

The boy took a deep breath and spoke. "The correct answer, using Rolle's Theorem and the derivative of the polynomial," Clemmons rolled his eyes and motioned for the student to finish, "is one root."

Silence filled the room. Clemmons looked down at his index card.

"Douglas is correct. Ladies and gentlemen, Neptune High wins out over Pan High with a final score of one hundred points."

Cheers erupted, and Douglas' teammates gave him hearty congratulations. Even Clemmons looked pleased. A chant began to take form as the assemble people congratulated their champion mathalete.

"Corny! Corny! Corny!"

He waved to the room, and turned back to his friends.

"Want to like...I don't know. Get a pizza and celebrate? Or we could just karaoke."

--

**Java the Hut, 10:42 PM**

"What is it that couldn't wait?" She slid into the chair, eyeing her place of employment warily. "I have a play date tonight, you know." She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. "I mean, a _literal_ play--you know what? Never mind. What's up?"

"Well, V, if I had known you and your boyfriend were planning a special night," she snorted at him, "I wouldn't have called. Anyway, I need your help."

"Surprise, surprise." Veronica sighed. "Hit me, Cliff."

"I've just been informed that Loretta Cancun has apparently skipped town with...well, I don't know who yet. Some sugar daddy who has undoubtedly promised her a free ticket for the gravy train. But she owes a lot of people a lot of money, and they're not too happy about this most recent development."

"I'm assuming that you're one of these people?"

Cliff shrugged. "I'm just her court-appointed attorney--I don't make money _anyway_. And you don't have to get started on this right away...I'll bring it into your Dad tomorrow morning, see if he can track her down."

Veronica frowned. "Okay, that's great, Cliff, but...why'd you call me tonight?"

He motioned a waitress over while trying his best to block out the horrendous sounds emanating from the stage.

"I can't just call my interpid girl detective friend up for the heck of it?"

"No."

"I just thought we could have a cup of coffee together. No business involved. Friend to friend."

She smiled.

"I'd like that, Cliff."

"Then you're paying."

--

**Java the Hut, 8:30 PM**

The lights dimmed in Java the Hut as Karaoke Tuesday droned on. A man took the stage. His very presence commanded attention, and every female patron in the coffee shop immediately riveted their eyes to him. As the slow, soulful ballad began to play, he nodded to the assembled crowd and began to sing. A hush grew over the room. His velvety voice wrapped around each word, each note, each emotion. The passion he exuded was contagious, and couples began to gravitate towards each other.

It was only when those heavenly four minutes and twelve seconds were up that anyone watching him dared take a breath. Thunderous applause shook the club, and the performer, ever-modest, gave them a small wave before descending back to earth to join the moral coil again. He was a God among men, and everyone knew it.

He approached the counter and ordered a coffee, politely ignoring the spontaneous orgasm the waitress enjoyed while serving him. A gentle hand on his arm stopped him on his quest to select a table.

"Johnny?" A woman asked breathily. "Is that--" When she saw his face, she blushed and bowed her head down. "I'm so sorry. It's just...when I saw you onstage. You sounded just like the lead singer from my favorite band. You were--it was..." Words escaped her as she drowned in the pools of his baby blue eyes.

"There's no need to be sorry." He placed his fingers under her downcast chin and lifted up her head until their eyes locked. "What do you say we get out of here and find someplace a little more...comfortable?"

"Oh, God, please," she moaned, her face flushing with desire.

He wrapped a strong arm around her, and they exited the restaurant. Every woman in the room pulsated with envy, wishing they could be in her place. Every man in the room looked stunned as they tried to snap their female companions back to reality.

One man, a good-looking blonde teenager, looked particularly sick.

"Not again," he groaned to himself as he watched the pair go off. "And I really liked Lizzy, too. Damn it! Why does this always happen to me?"

He slouched down in his seat, rage clear in his eyes.

"Fuck you, Lars. Fuck you."


End file.
